Shift
by Crystia
Summary: Written for prompt: "AU where Harry and Draco switch personalities."
1. Chapter 1

**I wrote this over a year ago. It was for a prompt, but I got carried away with 20k of doing my own thing. Anyway, it's old, but… enjoy? Or not.**

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1**

Draco Malfoy hovered uncertainly outside the train compartment, eavesdropping shamelessly to check that Harry Potter was really inside. If he confirmed beforehand, he could avoid talking to unnecessary strangers. Draco preferred to speak to as few people as possible. He peered through the crack between the wall and the door.

"You could do it, I bet," Ronald Weasley bragged from inside the compartment, arm slung around the other boy's shoulders, even though they could hardly have met more than a few hours ago. "You defeated You-Know-Who, a simple spell like this is child's play!"

Harry Potter did not look so certain of his abilities, but before he had a chance to respond, Draco Malfoy walked into their train compartment, saving him from the need to demonstrate. Sizing up the two boys, Draco noted that Potter seemed pleased to have someone hang onto his every word; Draco wondered that it never got old, since Potter had surely had plenty of attention since he was a baby. Vanquishing a Dark Lord did tend to attract acclaim.

"I was wondering if I might join you?" Draco said, after taking a deep breath. He didn't think the Boy-Who-Lived would really want to be his friend, but his parents had insisted he try. Harry Potter's political clout was not to be dismissed; and his parents had _expectations_ about Draco's time at school.

"I was wondering if I might join you?" Weasley mocked in a high pitch, girlish exaggeration of Draco's upper-class accent. "Ugh. Posh accent, vampire hair... you must be a Malfoy."

"You must be a Weasley," Draco observed neutrally, eying the red hair and hand-me-down clothes. Still, if he wanted to please his father, insulting Harry Potter's apparent best friend likely wasn't the smartest way to earn his respect.

"You two know each other?" Potter piped up, eyes darting between the two of them.

"No, but my dad knows his," Weasley said with disgust. "The Malfoys supported You-Know-Who and then bought their way out of trouble. He probably came here to make friends with you just for the fame."

Draco stiffened, straightening his back with his chin held high. His fingers clenched around the door handle, and he _wanted_ to snap back and defend himself and his family, but reality meant that even if he thought of dozens of witty retorts as he obsessed over this moment in the years to come...

In the moment itself, Draco froze. Potter and Weasley stared at him with increasing disgust.

"See? He can't even say anything 'cause it's true. Slimy Slytherin," Weasley taunted. "Get lost, Malfoy."

"Yeah, I've already got a vault full of gold," Potter said, gaze darting to Weasley as though looking for approval. "So if you want to buy my friendship you're out of luck. This compartment doesn't have any room for Voldemort's minions."

Weasley and Malfoy both flinched at the use of the Dark Lord's real name, but Weasley's smirk of victory didn't diminish. Draco thought that the power of being Harry Potter's best friend was going to the boy's head; it was obvious Weasley was enjoying ganging up on someone else for a change. His family was poor, and Draco wondered if Ronald knew how much Arthur Weasley got pushed around at the Ministry.

Draco also recognized a lost cause when he saw one.

"I think this compartment isn't up to my standards," he managed to bluff, before turning on his heels and walking away as quickly as he could.

Behind him, he heard Weasley start up a chant of "Malfoy's a dirty Death Eater, Malfoy's a dirty Death Eater" which Potter joined in shortly.

Draco self-consciously lowered his head, darting into the nearest empty compartment he could find, hoping that the heads that turned weren't observant enough to notice his watering eyes. He locked the door behind him, and wondered what his father would say. Draco was such a failure, that even with all his advantages, a Weasley had gotten the better of him. He truly was worthless.

ooo

"Harry's not a loser," Ron said, getting up in Smith's face. "Of course he'll do it."

"Yeah," Seamus chipped in. "He's the _Savior of the Wizarding World_. You think he's scared of a detention?"

Harry did not, actually, want to sneak into the broomshed just to prove to Zacharias Smith that he could do so, when the boy seemed like an arse anyway. He did not actually remember facing Voldemort at all. Therefore, detention—or falling a hundred feet to his death, after riding a broom without supervision— _did_ intimidate him, since he had nothing to compare these fears to.

" _Right_ , Harry?" Ron prompted him, while all three of them stared at him expectantly.

But then Harry realized he did have another fear, one more prominent than detention or spectacular falls from a broom.

Harry remembered sitting alone at recess all through elementary school, and being chased by Dudley's gang. He remembered having his lunch stolen (only provided because the school would ask Aunt Petunia _questions_ if he didn't bring something). He remembered bruises from kicks under the desks and from being shoved into lockers.

'Savior' or 'The Chosen One', while not ideal, were better than 'loser' or 'freak'.

Yet Harry was also keenly aware that he didn't know how he defeated Voldemort... and if anyone realized this, he might return to his loser status. They'd call him a fraud and fluke instead.

If they realized he was intimidated now, how long would it take for the admiration to change to disgust? How long until they turned on him? Disappointment was powerful. They might not want to be his friends if he refused to do crazy, brave, Gryffindor antics. He _had_ tricked the hat, after all. If he didn't prove he was great, they'd realize he was a fraud, a slimy Slytherin.

Ron and everyone else wanted to be his friend because Harry was the Chosen One. If they lost this reason, if Harry proved to be anything other than that hero, he felt terrified of returning to his days as a pariah of the elementary school.

So Harry watched their faces fall with disappointment and irritation as he hesitated to answer, and knew that he'd have to face one fear to avoid the other.

"Yeah, whatever," said Harry with a shrug. "Where's this broomshed then?"

And their wary, disappointed faces lit up with excitement as Seamus and Ron whooped. Smith scowled.

They got caught, in the end, but Harry was breathless with the rush of wind and the dive he'd taken to catch Ron's dropped wand. The detentions didn't seem so bad, and more than this, McGonagall made him Seeker of the Gryffindor team.

Harry walked the halls, more worshipped than ever, and found the attention uncomfortable. Still, he could get used to it, because he knew exactly what the alternative was.

"Yep," Harry said with a cheeky grin, smirking at the second-year students all asking him if the rumors were true. "That's what McGonagall said. The youngest seeker in a century..."

ooo

Harry shifted uncomfortably, even while Ron levelled his wand on Malfoy. Malfoy had made the mistake of snorting when Parvati Patil had been going on about how Harry had more quidditch talent than even Ludo Bagman.

Harry didn't even know who Ludo Bagman _was_ , and they were about to have a fight about it. He wouldn't have thought much of it, had mostly been letting the praise wash over him while Lavender had nodded along. Hermione had been ignoring the conversation up until now, working diligently on her assignment. The girls seem to have invited her mostly because they'd hoped she'd let them copy her homework, but she'd refused.

"You got something to say, Malfoy?" Ron demanded, hostile. Malfoy watched him warily, glancing up from where he'd been quietly working on his Charms worksheet. He sat alone at an adjacent table; the Gryffindors had decided to also sit in the Charms section to work on the assigned homework.

Harry couldn't help but notice that, for an evil Voldemort supporter, Malfoy seemed to keep to himself these first few weeks of school. Harry didn't think he'd heard him speak since that first day on the train.

"Put that thing away, Weasley," Malfoy said, shoulders hunching. Harry was reminded uncomfortably of how he used to react when Uncle Vernon bullied him. It made him irrationally angry; Malfoy at least had the chance to fight back and defend himself, so why didn't he?

"Malfoy is right, Ron," Hermione sniffed, butting into the conversation. "Fighting is against the rules-"

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron grumbled, although his wand lowered a fraction of an inch.

"Malfoy just doesn't know how to recognize quidditch talent when he sees it," Parvati sniffed haughtily, crossing her arms.

"He's _eleven_ ," Malfoy finally burst out, seemingly at his limit of how much he could bear silently. "He's not going to be better than a professional quidditch player!"

"And why should we listen to a Death Eater?" Ron demanded, Parvati and Lavender nodding along and voicing their agreement. Harry startled when the quill in Malfoy's hand snapped, dark ink spilling over his hand.

Harry wondered why a supporter of Voldemort would be so angry at being called a Death Eater. He opened his mouth hesitantly, maybe to tell his friends to lay off. He closed it again. He didn't want them to think he was ungrateful for them sticking up for him.

"Well, Malfoy's not wrong," Harry said carefully, but he managed to force a smile, hoping to diffuse the situation. "I'm just a kid. But that doesn't mean I _can't_ be as good as Ludo Bagman with some practice."

"Malfoy's just jealous, anyway," Lavender sniffed, and Harry winced. "He's a no-good Death Eater and you're the _Chosen One_."

"I hate all of you," Malfoy said lowly, standing abruptly from his seat and shakily collecting his papers and bag with trembling hands. He all but ran from the library, and Harry felt torn between irritation and guilt, even though he'd barely contributed to the interaction at all.

"Coward," Ron muttered, while Hermione tutted in disapproval.

Harry shook his head, clearing any doubts he had. His friends said Malfoy was bad news, so they were probably right.

"Let's just get back to our homework," Harry suggested, glancing back down at the question sheet. No need to feel guilty on a Slytherin's behalf.

ooo

"That's incredible, Draco," Pansy simpered, sneaking a look at his first report card. Draco had studied hours upon hours, sequestered away early mornings in the library, and the afternoons and evenings hunched over his books in the common room.

Whispers of _Death Eater_ followed him if he tried to study after breakfast in the library, his table frequently jostled to splatter ink across his parchment. The taunting of the Chosen One's lackeys (and occasionally, the Chosen One himself) proved influential: the majority of the school now shared the sentiment.

"You're smart, handsome, pureblood, and rich," Pansy listed with delight, wrapping herself around one of his arms. "You really have everything going for you."

Draco stared at his report card with dread, a deep sinking sensation in his chest.

 _O Potions_

 _O History of Magic_

 _O Defense Against the Dark Arts_

 _E Transfigurations_

 _O Charms_

"Yes," Draco said faintly. "I have everything going for me."

He wondered if his father had already seen.

ooo

An angrily worded letter, expressing intense disappointment, answered that question a few days later. Draco could expect to have privileges revoked this summer.

For all his advantages, he only received an E in Transfigurations, and lost top of the class to a mudblood.

" _I am displeased..._ "

His mother's letter was less harshly worded, and even worked under the guise of approval. Still, despite all his effort, his mother still made sure to gently remind him, _there is always room for improvement._

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ooo

 **So I wrote this for the prompt "Harry and Draco switch personalities". The result didn't end up with them being a complete 'switch', but rather, I altered things in the beginning to push them in that direction, with the changes becoming more noticeable as they got older.**

 **The end result might not be what the prompt asked for, but I had fun writing it. I hope it's still enjoyable.**

 **Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

"You don't think Harry Potter is the heir of Slytherin?" Harry asked, carefully placing Goyle's meaty hands in his lap. He wondered how much time they had left on the polyjuice potion.

"Of course not," Malfoy snorted, plopping down on the couch with a quiet 'oomf'. Harry wondered at how relaxed the other boy looked. "Just because I don't like him doesn't make him a psychopath."

Harry shifted uncomfortably; suddenly, it felt a little embarrassing that they'd spent a month brewing a potion to ask Malfoy these questions. In that one sentence, Malfoy had basically told them that he thought the attacker was crazy, and he probably didn't approve if he called them a 'psychopath'. Malfoy was innocent.

And he believed in Harry, which a significant portion of the student population did not. Even many of whom had worshiped the ground he walked on just last year.

"Who do you think did it then?" Ron demanded. "Was it you? Do you speak Parseltongue?"

"How would I know?" Malfoy retorted with a scowl. "And Crabbe, we grew up together. Don't you think I would've mentioned if I could speak to snakes or was related to Slytherin?"

"You could've kept it a secret," Harry pointed out hesitantly, trying to maintain their cover.

"Goyle, unlike Potter, I would not be ashamed by the ability to speak Parseltongue," Malfoy snapped. "Why does being a Parselmouth make you the next Dark Lord, anyway? It's just a language. No one says such things about German, and that's what Grindelwald spoke."

Harry's mouth dropped open, before snapping it shut again. He felt an embarrassed flush go to his cheeks; from what Ron and Hermione had told him, he'd been terrified of being a Parselmouth, but when Malfoy spoke, he felt rather stupid.

"So you didn't open the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron pressed, while Harry fidgeted, sneaking glances at Malfoy.

"No," Malfoy said slowing, sitting up and eying them with suspicion. "Why would I?"

"You hate muggleborns! Your father-" Ron started, and Malfoy groaned in frustration.

"Oh, for the- what is _wrong_ with you two? You're acting very strange," Malfoy said, standing up, clearly to make his leave.

"Wait," Harry blurted, unsure what made him speak up. This whole conversation felt like it'd turned his world inside out. "You- Why did you want to be friends with m- with Harry Potter the first day on the train?"

"How do you know about that?" Malfoy demanded, angry. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. He's a bully and thinks that he can call my father a Death Eater when my father is _innocent_. He was forced under the Imperius Curse, everyone knows that! And even if he wasn't, where does Potter get off accusing _me_ of crimes my _father_ supposedly did?"

Harry's stomach sank. He remembered that day. He'd been so excited to have a friend for the first time, and so eager to prove Ron he could live up to his title of The-Boy-Who-Lived. He'd had no reason not to believe Ron when he'd said Malfoy was no good, and he hadn't even known what Death Eater _meant_ when he'd started chanting it. But he'd joined in, because he had a friend, he was famous instead of being called a freak, and it had felt _so good_ to have power over someone else for once instead of submitting to Dudley's whims.

"Your father bought his way out of Azkaban, everyone knows _that_ ," Ron shouted, incensed, and Harry looked at him in horror. Crabbe would never say that, and his hair-

"Weasley," Malfoy said, disbelief briefly overriding his previous outrage. Crabbe's hair was starting to redden and freckles splattered his face; coupled with Ron's outburst, it was fairly obvious. "Your hair- And Potter, I presume. _How_ did you manage this-?!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

"Run," Ron yelled, and they sprinted for the exit of the common room.

They escaped, but when Ron and Hermione wanted to discuss new plans for catching the culprit, and Ron insisted that Malfoy was acting suspicious, Harry couldn't bring himself to join them. Excusing himself to hide behind the curtains of his bed, he pulled the blankets high over his head.

Harry imagined everyone assuming he was just like the Dursleys because he was related to them, and hated himself.

ooo

So maybe Harry had messed up. But it was no problem, he reassured himself. He'd fix it. He was the Chosen One! And since Malfoy wasn't a Voldemort supporter, he _had_ to be impressed that Harry had defeated him. _Twice_. And the first time he'd been a baby!

"Hi, Malfoy," Harry greeted him breathlessly, dashing up to catch up with him on their way to Potions. He tapped him on the shoulder, and Malfoy jumped, before eying him suspiciously. He didn't say anything, and Harry fumbled, looking for a topic.

"I thought maybe we could be lab partners today," Harry said, struck by inspiration. Malfoy received excellent grades, second only to Hermione; she'd even grumbled on several occasions when he scored higher. Being lab partners would help him escape Snape's wrath, _and_ it would give him a chance to win Malfoy over.

"I don't know who the Heir is, Potter," Malfoy said irritably, quickening his pace. "So don't think being friendly will get you anything. And if this is you 'keeping an eye' on me because you think _I'm_ the Heir, shove off."

"No, no, I know it's not you," Harry said quickly. "We made a mistake, and I just wanted to make sure there's no hard feelings."

"What do you care? Get lost, Potter."

"Malfoy... Draco. Can I call you Draco? Look, I just meant, if people don't want to be your friend because they think you support Voldemort, I thought _we_ could be friends," Harry proposed, trying to project confidence. "If the Boy-Who-Lived is your friend, you couldn't be a Death Eater, right? Then we could call it even, with the whole... er... misunderstanding."

That sounded good. Slytherins liked deals, right? Harry had the situation under control. This was nothing compared to Voldemort or trolls, really. Draco stared at him incredulously, and Harry picked at the hem of his robes nervously.

"Shove _off_ , Potter," Draco finally told him angrily, pushing him to the side as he entered the Potion's classroom. "You're the only reason they're calling me a Death Eater in the first place."

Due to Draco's quick pace, they were the first to the room. This meant that Draco couldn't stop Harry from taking the seat next to him.

"That's why I'm going to make it right," Harry said with as much assurance as he could muster. With his fame in the wizarding world, he'd found that feigning confidence was just as good as having it, and bluffing would almost always get him what he wanted.

"Ugh," Draco muttered, but class started, and Harry sat contentedly in his seat. At Ron's scowl Harry gave him a chipper wave.

ooo

"It's just recon," Harry explained to Ron, remembering Draco's words. It wasn't true, but he didn't want a fight with Ron. This was easier. "Didn't you want to keep an eye on him?"

"I don't like it," Ron said. "If you're hanging out with a Death Eater, people are going to be even more sure that you're the Heir of Slytherin."

"I don't think he's a Voldemort supporter," Harry finally admitted hesitantly. "He denied it pretty strongly."

"He always pays attention in class and never causes any trouble," Hermione added, as though high grades were a strong indicator of character.

"I don't like it," Ron repeated. Harry shrugged uneasily, but the argument ended there, so he decided it was okay to continue his efforts, even if he hadn't been honest about the reasons behind them.

ooo

As second year progressed, Harry would admit, if only to himself, that he really, really liked Draco.

He could tell that Draco had warmed up to him as well. He helped him with potions, they worked on homework outside of class sometimes, and they'd even gone flying a few times.

"Oh, shut up," Draco finally snapped, and Harry startled, before realizing that Draco was talking to the people whispering behind them. They'd been discussing the rumors that Harry was the next Dark Lord; the usual. Harry had tuned it out, somewhat used to the treatment by now, although he didn't enjoy it.

"You want to start something, Malfoy?" one of the boys demanded, a second year who Harry didn't recognize.

"He's _twelve_ ," Draco snapped, and Harry recalled another argument, only a year ago, where Draco had used a similar attack. Harry flushed a bit, though, because this time, Draco was _defending_ him. "He's not going to be going around petrifying students!"

"Well, you _would_ say that, wouldn't you? You're his accomplice," another second year accused, crossing her arms. "Your dad supported the last Dark Lord, you're getting ready to support the new one!"

"You're all a bunch of idiots, aren't you?" Draco asked incredulously, throwing his hands up. He reached out and grabbed Harry's arm, to start dragging him in the direction of their next class. "Come on, Harry. No use wasting our time on these lumps."

"I'm coming," Harry said, unable to help the wide smile that crossed his face. Draco had called him _Harry._

ooo

"Harry has better things to do than be holed up here in the library with you," Ron snapped, in one of his frequent arguments with Draco. Hermione hovered awkwardly behind him. She'd been released a couple days ago from the hospital wing, finally cured from the petrification of the basilisk.

"Oh, Ron, we can hang out with him later," Hermione said with a sigh. "Just because you're jealous-"

"I'm not jealous," Ron shouted, while Harry shifted uncomfortably. He never knew what to do in Draco's and Ron's fights; he usually didn't agree with Ron, since the boy constantly picked a fight without good reason, but taking Draco's side made Ron explode with fury, and often worsened the situation.

Harry suspected Hermione was right, and that Ron _was_ jealous, given his previous undisputed status as Harry Potter's Best Friend. Still, pointing it out only aggravated Ron more, and Harry sighed internally at Hermione's efforts to 'help'.

"Look, Ron," Harry tried weakly, only to be cut off.

"Why are you still hanging out with him, anyway?" Ron asked angrily. "We caught the Heir of Slytherin. You don't need to keep an eye on him anymore."

Harry winced. Many times, he'd placated Ron by telling him that he only spent time with Draco to 'keep an eye on him, just in case'. He hadn't quite worked up the nerve to tell Ron otherwise, although he thought Ron suspected, but for him to bring it up _in front of_ Draco-

"What?" Draco asked flatly, voice cracking like a whip. Ron clenched his fists, face red, and Hermione watched with wide eyes. Harry had no idea what to do.

"Er," Hermione tried, after several drawn out, silent awkward seconds. "That is, we didn't really think-"

"You said you were only hanging out with him to spy on him," Ron plowed on, and Harry waved his hands helplessly.

"That's not-" he tried, but when Ron's face was the image of pure fury, he found it extremely difficult to tell his best friend he'd been lying just to placate him.

Harry feared Ron would hate him, ditch him for choosing to spend time voluntarily with a slimy Slytherin, and everyone else would follow. Harry would be the freak again, even after he'd finally gotten back his status as the Chosen One, the boy who'd faced a basilisk and won. Harry couldn't go back to that-

Belatedly, he realized that while he'd been worrying about Ron, Draco had been watching him expectantly, only for his expression to darken as Harry failed to deny the accusation.

Harry floundered for a second too long, and Draco finally snapped, standing abruptly and grabbing his bag in the same motion.

"Draco," Harry tried, stumbling to his feet and grabbing the boy's arm. Draco shook it off violently. When Draco was truly mad, Harry noticed, he tended to choose flight over fight. This was no exception.

"Leave me alone, Potter," Draco spat, bottom lip trembling, and ran for the door; Harry had the sickening feeling that the boy was about to cry, and didn't want to do so in front of Ron- in front of _him_ -

"Wait," Harry said desperately, starting after him, but Ron grabbed his arm.

"What are you doing? It was just the truth," Ron said stubbornly.

"I- I have to catch him," Harry said, breaking free from the grasp and darting for the door too. He hesitated for just a moment, glancing back, worried that his friends were angry. Ron did, in fact, look upset, but Hermione just looked anxious.

He ran out to the hallway, ignoring Madame Pince's scolding for running in the library, but Draco was already out of sight. Harry took a guess that Draco had headed towards the Slytherin commons, and took off in that direction, but questioning the Bloody Baron at the entrance to the dormitory revealed that Draco had not come back.

Harry searched around, but he ultimately failed. Draco was nowhere to be found.

ooo

Harry, too late, finally admitted to Ron and Hermione that he hadn't befriended Draco with the intention to spy on him, and he actually wanted to stay friends with him. He blurted it all out in a rush, staring down at his knees while he sat tense on the couch in the Gryffindor commons, voice trembling with nerves. He waited for the accusations of freak, loser...

Ron wasn't happy, but it wasn't as bad as Harry had feared.

"I don't see what's so great about him," Ron muttered, only to wince as Hermione kicked him in the shins. With a practiced air, he managed reluctantly, "...But if that's what you want, we support you."

"Maybe you could invite him with us next time we go visit Hagrid," Hermione suggested helpfully, and Harry's shoulders drooped in relief. "Ron and I were talking, and he said he'd try to get along with him better, and the best way to do that is to learn more about him."

"I'd like that," Harry finally said quietly, fidgeting shyly.

And so it was thanks to Draco that Harry learned an important lesson: his friends—or Ron and Hermione, at least—could be counted on for more than just adventures battling basilisks or two-faced professors.

Unfortunately, the lesson came too late to salvage his friendship with Draco before the school year ended. Harry went back to the Dursley's despondent, even more miserable than his usual dread of spending several months with his relatives. Draco wouldn't answer any of his letters.

Still, in person, surely Draco would have to forgive him. Harry just had to be patient, and wait for the start of third year.

ooo


End file.
